


Bad Dream

by DeansMichaelSword



Series: Rule 63 AUs [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hell Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Raised You From Perdition, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 17:49:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4109659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansMichaelSword/pseuds/DeansMichaelSword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deanna has flashbacks to hell but Cas is there to help</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

There were hooks and lashing. She was being pulled apart piece by piece and sharp pain dug into her entire body. She called for her sister and the demons laughed, twisting the torturing devices further into her. She retched a low-throated scream. She could feel as her body fell apart and then again as it reconstructed itself slowly with searing heat and insatiable itches only for it to be destroyed again. The cool microscopic dot left on her clavicle by her pendant was all that held her together but it wasn’t enough. It began melting into her …

 

She wakes shaking, finding a hand on her arm, and she sits up erectly – petrified by what she can’t identify that is so close to her. Shoving her arms out at it, her hands meet cloth-covered shoulders and she digs her nails in to shove at it again. The figure whispers fiercely, “Deanna!” and she can focus on two eyes in a shade of Holy Blue. She was about to dislocate both of his shoulders had he been anything anti-human. She exhales a ragged breath in the quiet, realizing it was a dream. Still gripping Cas’ shoulders and unmoving, he presses her back into her pillow and slides her arms off of him, folding her hands together as she naturally drifts into a state of desperately exhausted unconsciousness. He waits with her as she settles back into sleep. Then he moves to sit and watch over the sisters on the cheap couch.

 

All her insecurities were being picked away. Ripped apart with pieces of flesh. Her bones aching as Alastair sucked away her marrow and her will. Sins oozed from every pore. Self preservation and hope of resistance crumbling as the demon parroted the thousands of thoughts she’d had in her last year of life alone:   
“Such a disappointment to your mother. She couldn’t even bother to keep you in the loop, much less as backup when she found the trail of the demon who killed your father.”   
“Look at what you’ve dragged Sam into. She could have been so happy with Jess. Could have had a normal life.”   
“You’re a sorry excuse for an older sibling. You couldn’t even take care of yourself, how could you trust yourself with Sam?”   
“You think you help people but how many helpless bystanders and innocents, one-night stands and people who didn’t fear the dark before you came along, how many of them have you left in your path? You know deep down that the lives ruined by your tainted soul far outnumber the amount of monsters you’ve destroyed and now look at you! You’ve become one yourself …”   
The master of torture cackled.

 

She grips the hand that touched her wrist and forced her eyes open at the contact.  
“Dee.” Says a low voice. She had screamed when she awoke, nearly sitting up again were it not for the celestial force that pushed her back. She would have broken the hand and wrist by now had it not been an angel’s. Once more the nightmare had surfaced after he left but upon its return it had dissipated. She grips the hand, only slowly releasing it in the hopes that the lingering contact will stave off another bad dream as she slowly drifts away again.

 

She held the whip and felt the hot blood boiling in her veins and fluids belonging to another soul splattering her whole body as she cracked the strip of leather. Sweat dripped down her face mixing with tears of laughter. She licked blood from her lips and smacked them in delight. She began tearing with her hands at the body in front of her.

 

She’s breathless and sobbing loudly, reaching out for something, anything to ground her. Her hands swipe at empty air, suddenly finding lapels that she squeezes with all of her might. Cas whispers her name again in an attempt to summon her consciousness. Her streaming eyes opened wide in fear and are unwilling to break contact with the angel’s. He lets her catch her breath and slow her tears before he reaches up to her hands to pull them away. Her eyes widen again full of terror and her breathing constricts. She only presses her fingers tighter into the grip that she has on the trench coat. She whispers in a low voice, “Cas. No. Please Cas. I can’t be alone. Don’t leave me here alone. I can’t do it. Alastair. I-I couldn’t hold back. I can’t breathe with all of that blood. I can’t go back ...” She’s too tired, the adrenaline rush not holding out this time. It’s probably Castiel’s doing. She leans back down on her side, of her own volition – falling asleep as she does so – and not relinquishing the clutch she has on the coat.

 

She was being pulled through the deadly and wet blackness that was suffocating her. She was blind and crying out for help, screaming for someone, for anyone to prevent them from taking her to whatever they had next in store for her. She could handle both ends of torture but the unknown was terrifying in this place. She screamed her sister’s name again. Then she cried out for mercy. Bright lights grew from specks, blinding her as they exploded out in the distance, growing rapidly closer. The suffocation was dripping away and she could still feel herself being pulled by the same force towards the lights – softness grazed her cheek in a swift down-up motion - a feather?

 

She awakes to the same sensation, and clinging to the angel’s lapels. The invisible softness trails off unnoticeably, deserting contact with her skin. The top of her head is pressed between her fists, to the angel’s chest, the rest of her body angled parallel to his, both of them close to the opposite edges of the motel bed. She gains realization at what has happened that night – fully aware for the first time of her terror and outbursts at the nightmare. As if reading her thoughts, but without the conviction in his voice that came with the actual act, Castiel tells her quietly, “Sam woke up when you called out but she will not remember doing so in the morning.” The angel understands that she has no wish to worry her sister – that she feels she must reserve this responsibility all for herself. Profound bond indeed.  
“Go back to sleep.” He touched two fingers to her forehead to set her dosing off before she could say anything or even shift positions.

 

She awakes to find the angel – thankfully – gone. Sam is already in the bathroom and she can hear the hairdryer going. She rolls onto her stomach for a few more moments of sleep and she can feel the warm spot next to her where Cas had been. He had stayed longer than she thought and it had kept the nightmares away after she’d dreamed the memory of him pulling her out of hell.

“Get up Deanna.” Sam tossed a pillow at her back. “It’s supply run day and I’m not going this time.” Free reign of the supermarket was unusual as it usually resulted in a cart teeming with cholesterol and sorely lacking in any vegetables.

 

 

A full night's sleep had her ready to go for once. Maybe she'd get Cas to come with her.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

She had experienced only a few more nightmares, and Cas reassured her after each one of them. After that, knowing Cas would be there to help control the after-shocks solidified that she was no longer in Hell, and kept the bad dreams away.

Cas wouldn’t always be there when she wake up in the night. He had angel business that called him away. But it didn’t worry her or incite nightmares. When he was there, she’d find him on the couch or leaning against the wall, book in hand, or more often than not, eyes locked on one of them. If she couldn’t go back to sleep on her own, he’d sense it and set down the book, walking over to her bed to lay on the other side, facing away from her and letting their hands and arms touch.

But of course the nightmares were bound to return.  
They went on a hunt for a large vamp nest which turned out to be a horde of about 30 demons. The fight had been bloody and the two hunters who had led them to the hunt were killed. Near the end Dee was forced to call Cas and the angel lit up the room with rapid-fire smiting.  
By the end of it, though, they were all three soaked in guts and grime and walked back to the impala with blood running down their arms, and legs, and faces.

The excessive bombardment of gore triggers memories of hell that night for Deanna.  
With barely an hour of solid sleep under her belt, she snaps out of the dream, clutching to a hand that hadn’t been there when she went to sleep. Cas is facing away from her, holding her hand back but not saying anything. Silently gagging at her memories, she barely has the ability to breathe and she curls on her side to face Cas’ back, tucking her arms against her chest, hands fisted beneath her chin, knees tucked up tightly, in a mock of fetal position. Aching for comfort and a grounding force, she spoons her shivering body in a ball against the angel, pressed against his warm back.   
The angel tenses for a moment – her forehead is centered between where his wings meet his vessel but he relaxes when her only motion is shivering and a small but deep exhale.

She opens her eyes to a wall of beige, then closes them again. She can taste him as she breathes in - ozone, rain, and an slightly earthy musk that clings to his trench coat. Her eyes close just before she hears Sam shifting around in the bed next to her.


End file.
